


In tenebris ignis

by SrebrnaFH



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is anxious, First humans, Garden of Eden, Hurt Crowley, M/M, Maybe a tiny bit of a plot, No Plot, One page a day, before the book, but mostly emotions, just musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-30 05:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20809082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: One page a day story. I write them by hand, then retype to the computer.Basically... Crowley. And Aziraphale. Thoughts, emotions, impressions.Posting schedule: Hopefully every day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The pages themselves you can find [here](https://srebrnafh.tumblr.com/tagged/one-page-a-day).

He fell.

"Mother!"

He whimpered.

_Why?_

Was it so bad to be him?

He was just... Being himself.

"It hurts...!"

It did hurt.

His wings.

His head.

It was killing him.

He had never known such pain before.

"Mother?"

He had just asked questions.

He hadn't meant to...

To fall.

His wings were on fire.

Blackening from the edge.

Like a scrap of paper set on fire.

Turning to ash.

"Mother..."

He fell.

Away from Her Grace.


	2. Chapter 2

Hell wasn't hot. Hell wasn't cold.

Hell... Hell was absence.

Hell was the gaping hole inside of him.

Hell was the lack of feeling.

Hell was the lack of Her Love.

It was what hurt the most.

Not the blackened wings.

Not the burns. Not the bruises.

Hunger. Emptiness. Yearning.

He fed it with acerbity.

He filled it with sarcasm.

He answered it with acridity.

He was crying inside and grinning outside.

He was shaking and cackling.

The angel inside him died in pain.

The demon he became, bloomed.

He wrapped himself in darkness.

He kept himself busy, busy, busy.

Too busy to feel. Too busy to yearn.

Too busy to suffer.

Too busy to look closely.

Too busy to pay attention to detail.

He only cried in his sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes he touches his black feathers, in vain trying to bring them back to their original starry white.

There is no cure for damnation.

There is no heavenly bleach to clean the marks of the Fall.

There is no way back to Her Light.

Dark, squirmy, suspicious of each other, the demons writhe in pain. Each, silently, keeps the great secret from the others. Some repeat the official line about being better off now so many times they actually start believing in it.

He doesn't. He isn't better off now.

His whole being cries for mercy.

Not that he wants back to the herd of the little white lambs, no.

But he is ready to play nice with them if this would be the price of being back in Her Presence.

"Mother?" he whispers. "I miss You."


	4. Chapter 4

They don't want him?

So be it. Not the first club he is unwanted in. Angels didn't like him for asking too many questions. Turns out, Hell can be pretty pissy about that, too, actually. Turns out that Hell is all about rebelling against authority, but only as long as that authority is Upstairs.

If you try to express your own opinion about some aspect of their demonic leaders, well, nobody is supportive about rebellion anymore.

Because, really, they are all one and the same. Only in different covers.

Keep them docile, keep them in line.

Keep them stupid and unable to act.

He is already fed up with the so-called Fallen. Not only because they are as fake as Upstairs. But mainly.


	5. Chapter 5

Of course, from time to time he did join in. There were appearances to be kept, after all.

He accepted tasks and followed orders without grumbling. Much.

He had to grumble and complain. By now it was his de facto image. That demon who complains and whines about the glorious... No.

Against the Great Rebellion.

Rebel against Rebels, incredible.

So he followed orders and fulfilled tasks. As long as the results were there, nobody cared all that much about the details.

So he made sure to carefully take on just the right kinds of duties. Ones that he could carry out in his own, inimitable style.

He turned lazily to watch Beelzie hand out new assignements.

Ah. Something tricky. And quite prestigious. An apple, really?


	6. Chapter 6

It had been exciting, but not really challenging. Poor creatures were so open to suggestion... She had left them with next to nothing in the "reasonable restraint" department.

Not that he was going to complain.

Well, maybe a bit -- since this made this assignment somewhat less of a challenge. Convince two willing and trusting creatures like them to sin? He had no comparison, but it was easy like something **really** easy.

And he felt kind of... uncomfortable with the outcome, actually. He had not been expecting Her to react... that harshly.

On the other hand, he had been expelled just for asking some questions, so he should have expected... Well, what was done, was done.

He turned to leave when a glint of pure white caught his eye.


	7. Chapter 7

Oh, the light, the Light!

It shone from the figure on the Wall so brightly, blindingly.

He slithered forward, covering ground much quicker than any of his other forms -- apart from the winged one -- and much more discreetly.

There was an angel standing there, in the blinding, oppressive glare of the Sun. An anxious angel.

_Interesting._

And the humans? Oh. The angel was watching them. Naughty or vindictive? Sympathetic or smiting?

The anxiety coming off the bright one was significant. _Naughty and sympathetic._

Oppressive heat beat upon his black scales, telling him to just relax, stretch out, maybe coil on the tree and rest.

He looked up the wall. _Ah. Eastern Gate guardian. Huh..._


	8. Chapter 8

The angel was a surprise.

For one of the Army of Light, he was most decidedly naughty. Unruly. Independent!

And his guilty conscience was eating him. A lovely combination for any demon to sample. Nothing better than a Bright soldier who is just a tiny little bit not in line.

The angel -- _Aziraphale_ \-- must have been driving that stuffy old Gabriel crazy with his slight, barely-there toeing the line.

Of course he did as he was told -- led the humans, barely dressed and still shaky, away from the Garden. But then he did... He did something unexpected. Something no other angel or demon would have done. He had mercy. He helped them in defiance of Her Order.

Crawley tasted the air with a quick flicker of his tongue. Yes. That was Love.


	9. Chapter 9

He. Wants. To. Touch. Them.

Like. Now.

Crawley raked his fingers through his own hair in frustration. Because why, why for... for someone's sake, would he be suddenly plagued -- heh, plagued -- with the need to touch an angel!?

And, specifically, the angel's wings.

That was weird. It had to be weird, right? Not that he really socialised with other demons, but he couldn't remember anyone ever mentioning touching someone else's wings...! There surely was something wrong with him, more than just him being a demon. Demons were supposed to detest the Bright Ones. The Heavenly Feathered. The Sunny Birds. The...

He really wanted to know if the angel's short, feathery-white hair was as soft as it looked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the posted chapters are caught up to the written ones, there will be one chapter posted per day.


	10. Chapter 10

He sat on a chilly, dark boulder, far away from the Light. Far away from all his demonic brethren. Far, far away from anyone that could potentially question him.

Head bowed, hair falling around him like a fiery curtain, he existed in silence. It wasn't very easy to be idle like that. All his senses were very keen, very sharp. Very something. Quite hard to ignore.

While all he wanted was some quiet, inside and out, and a chance to savour the memory of that short interaction.

Was he supposed to find one of the Celestial Soldiers so fascinating? By no means. He was supposed to detest the weak-minded, soft-bellied cowards!

Crawley never did very well when it came to things he was supposed to feel. Black wings or white.


	11. Chapter 11

It is supposed to be pure Love, but it isn't. No matter what his superiors tell him, he knows what he feels. It's... uncomfortable. It's warm, yes. And... somewhat calming. Maybe. Not like the Love he remembers. Not the same Love that used to be before half of the Heavenly Legions Fell.

Departed from the Light. Damned themselves for all eternity.

He squirms, just a little. There is a revision of troops coming, with Gabriel and Michael performing all kinds of checks to weed out any new rebellious angels. There is no place for resistance in Heaven!

He pushes down the immediate feeling of dread and hopes that his tiny personal signs of resistance will not be detected today.

She sees all, of course. But She did not grant Gabriel with omniscience.

Luckily for some angels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we now move to our angel


	12. Chapter 12

It feels lonely, that far from other angels. He should be proud of doing the needed thing, of fulfilling his holy duty... He is! Of course he is! It's just so... quiet. And lonely. And he still feels like someone is in fact watching him.

Looking for the first signs on a Fall, certainly.

Well, they won't get anything from this angel, will they. Not at all, no sir. Or madam.

He sniffs and holds himself a bit stiffer. He is supposed to guard the gate, after all. Guardian of the Eastern Gate, right? So... He should be alert. And proper. Like a guardian... Not that he has any experience in these matters, but he isn't going to tell Gabriel they chose the wrong angel for the job! Can't show inadequacy.

He glances around. And back. After all, nobody had told him which way to guard.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday chapter, I just forgot to retype it in the evening.

It wasn't exactly sure what it was that he was supposed to be guarding. The Garden? The Tree? The humans? Against who exactly? Any of the Fallen who would dare enter even the air above this place would of course be struck by Her power -- since Her hand was over the creatures She had created and placed in such exquisite environs. So... why a guardian? In such a perfect, supposedly peaceful corner of the universe?

He hoisted himself to the top of the wall -- pure will, none of this scary winged stuff, these two poor kids were already kind of jumpy and a sudden appearance of a fully winged Soldier of Heaven might have sent them into hysterics. Even though there was nothing for them to be afraid of, right?

They were quite innocent, dear children.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for 2 days of silence, but things happening at my office were affecting me enough for me to deem it inadvisable to write anything, since I didn't want it affected by my mood.

The humans were... Interesting? Different? Silly? He watched them all day as they flittered around The Garden, seemingly without a purpose. Well, what purpose could the two of them have?

They had a lovely place to live, all the food they could dream of, all the comforts and safety Her hand could deliver. All they had to do was to be obedient to Her Will.

He blinked and frowned at the thought - and at the sudden burst of activity at the centre of the Garden. What possibly could have happened?

Was it something for the Guardian to take interest in?

He turned to survey it better and froze at the sight.

They had eaten from the Tree. One Tree in the entire Garden they were supposed not to touch...


	15. Chapter 15

She was... expecting. He knew the general idea behind procreation -- the variety of animals around the Garden did it regularly and with enthusiasm he had not observed in any species otherwise. Still, the state the humans now found themselves in was rather bad.

Bad, hah!

Banned from the Garden!

Bad didn't even come close to describing how deeply, intensely the humans have messed up.

Disobeying Her direct, specific order.

They had one, one single thing they were not supposed to do, and yet...!

He swallowed with effort, looking down at them, unhappy, scared and... Scared of him.

Oh, bother.

He never wanted anyone to be scared of him! And they... They were so, so... innocent. Still.

"Take this," he heard himself say. "It will help you... Just, take it. Keep warm."


	16. Chapter 16

The top of the Wall was a lonely place.

He moved his weight from one leg to the other.

The feeling was-- uncomfortable. Yes. Not that he was anxious. Not at all! In the slightest!

He was just teensy weensy little bit...

Yes, he was anxious.

With every passing minute he expected to hear Her voice, questioning his actions. Because he had done-- that.

Humans were marching though the sand -- now it was scorching hot, but any second now the night would fall and they would be shivering.

He wrung his hands nervously.

No! Not nervously! Just-- just-- he was just unaccustomed to the being empty. Yes. Simple. Empty hands. He would have to find himself something to do. Because he wasn't nervous, most definitely. It was--

He looked at the poor children with worry.

He had nothing to be nervous about, did he? He had shown them mercy, after all. And She was merciful. He was quite sure.


	17. Chapter 17

Suddenly the Wall was no longer all that empty. And he wasn't alone in observing the humans' struggle as they marched on. But the presence next to him was... fiery. Scorching. _Fallen._

And talking rubbish.

And quite, quite annoying.

How could that demon, that black, evil snake, suggest that it would be... funny!

Not funny!

It would be a disaster! Sheer, unprecedented disaster! How could anyone take pleasure in what a catastrophe it would... Well _of course!_ A demon would. It was, after all, their domain. Fear, chaos, disruption and despair.

The same despair that was now eating at Aziraphale at the very thought of having to spend another minute watching the poor human creatures fight against the cruel, unfair world.

He hoped She wouldn't punish them for accepting his help. But She was merciful!


	18. Chapter 18

Red hair.

There was something about that colour...

It was... rebellious. Rebellious Red.

It was like sunset. Like the underbelly of the clouds just over the horizon right after the Sun touches down and it was tinged with that eternal fire that makes all the Creation...!

He had to turn away. It was wrong. The deep-seeing, searching yellow eyes, the shining locks, the...

For Her sake, it was a demon!

He couldn't be seriously considering... No, no, no, no, no. No. Not happening. A demon. And Aziraphale was a proper angel. A good, well-behaved, not-Fallen angel!

He couldn't be seen consorting with someone whose idea of entertainment was considering seeing an angel do wrong. He shouldn't be thinking about That Person. At all! Or about That Person's unfairly fascinating looks!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more soul-sucking days, including very messed up sleep cycle.  
I wrote some little pieces of other stories, but I wanted to keep this one to the one-page-at-once format, so... sorry for the wait.

Sleek, elegant. All sharp angles and points.

Black. So black it was like a hole in the reality around them, and yet, with subtle glittery quality to it.

Wings are, as per what all angels are taught, the picture of one's... well, not soul. But of Self. That is why proper, upright and lawful ones had the honour of the brilliant white feathers while the Fallen ones presented the blackness of their transgression. The Fall took away the Light shed by their feathers and so, in the lack of it, they were clad in the very evidence of what they were inside.

Worst of the bad.

He wondered - purely theoretically! - whether the black plumage of the demon felt the same as his own. Would the lack of Light make them coarser? Grittier? Heavier? Sharper?

Was it even allowed to touch them? Would it be a bad or a good thing to do? Would She care? Had She ever said anything about angels who consort with demons?


	20. Chapter 20

Hands shivering, fingers trembling, he combed through his short, feathery curls.

He couldn't allow anyone to see him like this, could he? How would explain himself to Gabriel or Michael or just anyone...? How could he translate his feelings into any language, be it a tongue of men or angels?

He was more than aware of his surroundings. The music of the spheres. The distant humming of young stars. The murmur of remote galaxies spinning and revolving.

He drew a shuddering breath -- not required, since he could safely refrain from indulging the needs of his corporation for extended periods of time -- but it gave him something to focus on. He needed to focus. He had to stop that feeling!

He was not supposed to... to feel these...!

He was a good, proper and lawful white-winged angel! He couldn't just... Rebel!

Could he? Should he just... give in?


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't retype the chapter as I wrote it, so... [here's the page.](https://srebrnafh.tumblr.com/post/188405263996/last-page-or-rather-two-half-pages)  
[Here are all the handwritten pages, as they were posted.](https://srebrnafh.tumblr.com/search/one%20page%20a%20day) I had only to remove 4 pages from the notebook, mostly due to egregious attacks of my dyslexia, which makes me switch "vertical" letters (p with b, g/q with d). Other than that what is written was written without plan or specific aim in sight (apart from getting these two together).

He gave in. With delight. With glee. With joy.

But he didn't Fall. It was more of a...

Stumble. Yes. Or no? A stumble implied

an error in judgement. And this was not

an error. It was the very best choice

he could have ever made in his life.

Existence. It was reaching out and

allowing himself to trust and it was

being honest and true. It probably

wasn't proper. Or upright. But it

felt so much better to be true to

himself than to be faithful to the rules.

He reached up, up to the Light, but his

Light was not the one he had been

banished from aeons before. It was so,

so much better. It was the true embodiment

of Love, not the remote and,

ultimately, somewhat alien Love She

was the source of. It was his own, personal

rebellion. Now he was up in arms

against both Heaven and Hell, equally and

quite officially. Gleefully. Jubilantly.

He reached out and was touched. He caught and was

caught in turn. All he needed was right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, despite the weird form and promised, but never kept posting schedule.  
And a huge Thank You to lovely lijahlover for commenting so faithfully :)


End file.
